


You're the Boss

by LuluLopez



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: BAMF Judy Hopps, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Post-Canon, Schoolfic, Slow Burn, autistic Judy Hopps, casefic, smart Nick Wilde
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:44:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13947975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuluLopez/pseuds/LuluLopez
Summary: While Nick is in the academy, he and Judy grow, both together and apart. Judy solves an important case, Nick solves the problem of being an outsider among outsiders, and they both learn what it means to take control of one’s own life.





	1. Prologue: Goodbyes and New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic would not exist without the encouragement (and invitation) of Markovas. While he and I disagree on many things, and our fic characterization is about as different as it can get, I encourage you to check out his fic anyhow, especially if you don’t like my characterization. I’m firmly in the “Judy and Nick are equally smart, equally capable counterpoints to each other” camp, so there will be no “pure damsel Judy/former hardened criminal Nick” or “naïve to the point of stupidity Judy/all-knowing never-wrong Nick” tomfoolery here.
> 
> Please note the attached map. Anima is an entirely made-up place with its own history, geography, and government system. This will help you see where this fic starts without waiting for the information to come up in conversation.

****

**Nick Wilde**

It was time to go to the police academy, and all I could think about was how much we weren’t saying. Maybe it was just me, but even a temporary goodbye with Judy wasn’t just a “see you around,” it was a big to-do with internal bells and whistles and anxiety, _what if she dies in a ditch what if I fail what if I succeed and she likes her temporary partner too much to switch what if I end up_ alone _again._ That was all basic, the reason I’d avoided emotional ties up until her. I wanted to resent her for it, but it felt good, too. Hence the anxiety. I was no longer an island. She had barreled into my life and assigned herself personhood, registered herself in my catalog as “pack.”

If she asked, I would tell her I hadn’t considered her much until halfway through that first case, when she put her paw on my arm – no, no, I would tell her that I had only underestimated her until – no, that was wrong too. The truth was the only logical choice, but the _truth_ wasn’t great. The first time I’d laid eyes on that bunny, she could have pulled me by the whiskers into her den. It was at least a quarter of the reason I’d fought so hard against helping her. Being in close proximity would have wrecked my concentration. It wasn’t the first time I’d been stunned by someone of another species, but it was the first time I’d been stunned by a bunny, and that irritated me more than her sweet folksy brand of speciesist degradation at the ice cream café. I mean, she was a _bunny._ There were a million others just like her out in the sticks, weird little bug-eyed balls of fluff who each contributed to overpopulation.

Except she wasn’t bug-eyed, she had less fluff than I did, and anybody could tell that she wasn’t a mother. I knew _of_ bunnies; who didn’t? I knew there were some who lived in the city. But when I said I knew everybody, what that really meant was that I knew everybody who mattered. And until I was steamrolled by Judy Hopps, I didn’t think bunnies mattered at all. I hoped she wouldn’t ask what I’d been thinking during the case. I was over the lies, the misdirection, but I’d already hurt her enough with my condescending assumptions. If she was willing to bury our rocky start, I’d gladly do so.

“Don’t forget to drink lots of water,” she said, brushing my chest even though my grey shirt was clean. I hadn’t even eaten yet. “I know, it’s common sense, but you’d be surprised at how quickly you adjust to the physical stuff. Filling your water bottle will become a chore, and you’ll catch yourself thinking you can put it off for a while...not good. Trust me.”

“I will,” I said.

“And...don’t be afraid to text me. It gets really lonely there.”

“I will,” I said. She stared at me. Purple eyes weren’t uncommon in rabbits, apparently, but it wasn’t the shade that bothered me, it was the focus. She stared at me like nothing else mattered, like I was the most important thing in the world. She did that a lot. At first, I’d written it off as an attempt to be criminally cute or put me on my guard, but she just seemed to focus her whole self on whatever was in front of her. It was a dangerous weapon, one I’d never bothered to master. It made me uncomfortable when she did it without saying anything, though. I raised my paws in the universal placating pose. “I _will,_ I promise.”

“Take care of yourself. If the other students give you trouble, kick them.”

I laughed, but she didn’t. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to someone who looked so non-threatening being so flippant about violent solutions to mundane problems, but I thought I understood, at least. Being so much smaller meant working harder than everyone else just to get a moment’s notice. Causing a scene was the only way to get heard, and physical force was the only way to get respect. I knew I’d have an easier time of it than she had, partly because she had already paved the way for small mammals like us, and partly because I was a predator. In regular society it was mostly a drawback, but within the ZPD, my sharp claws and fangs would grant me an immediate invitation to a club she would probably never be part of. I shrugged it all off, giving her a casual smile. No use ruminating on the distant future when I still had a lot of obstacles immediately ahead. “I’m not going to kick anybody, Carrots. I may not be a cop yet, but even I know that’s battery.”

“There will be paw combat matches. You’ll get a chance to show them not to mess with you,” she said ‘reassuringly.’ The idea made me a little sick. Violent encounters with mammals much larger than me aside, I had an unpleasant vision of what it must have been like to be a rabbit among lions and tigers and bears.

“What a relief,” I said flatly. She beamed at me, either missing the sarcasm or choosing to ignore it. My money would have been on the first, if I were the type to gamble, but I wasn’t (unless one counted blackjack, which was less about gambling and more about simple math).  

“Anyway, I…” She paused, watched me with a twitching nose, and then threw her arms around me. I jumped, but returned her hug and listened to her finish, “Do your best, Nick. I believe in you.”

She believed in me. She probably said that to anyone who expressed interest in something big, but it meant something special to me. Judy’s approval was important, not because it came from her – though that was a nice bonus – but because someone thought I was worth believing in. I could hardly bring myself to believe in my future, but she did.

“You keep yourself safe out there until I can watch your back. Don’t take any weird risks,” I told Judy, patting her on the head.

“I don’t take-” I made a _seriously?_ face at her, thinking of the stunts we’d performed to catch Mayor Bellwether, and she started over. “I’ll make an effort.”

“See that you do.”

It would probably be a difficult transition. My lifestyle hadn’t been sedentary, but I hadn’t dedicated much effort to muscle and stamina. Until the Nighthowler case, I hadn’t had a reason to run fast or far. Even dodging Mr. Big’s enforcers had been about finding small spaces to hide in. I could do it, though. Judy believed in me, believed I could do the right thing, and we’d been practicing.

The whistle sounded and I found myself engulfed in another hug. I let myself enjoy it, because it would be a long time before we’d see each other again. I wanted to remember her scent and the way it felt to have someone in my arms, a _friend_ for once instead of some temporary placeholder.

She pulled away, but didn’t quite let me go. “Bye, Nick.”

“See you later, Carrots,” I replied, and carried my bag onto the train. I didn’t think she’d cry as she watched the train leave the station, but I chose a seat away from the window so that I wouldn’t have to see the worst-case scenario.

My old life had been empty and lifeless, but change was upon me. I was going to pursue my own dream and rise above the expectations of mammals that should never have mattered in the first place. I was going to kick my own ass and _achieve_ something more than sliding through life on minimum effort for maximum profit. For the first time in over twenty years, I was going to do something for _me._

* * *

 

**Judy Hopps**

Nick’s train left and so did I, placing my earbuds in my ears and keeping an eye on the mammals big enough to step on me. There was no reason to loiter at the platform, since I couldn’t give him any more hugs and he wasn’t waving goodbye from the window. Although his enrollment at the police academy had been a sweet surprise, his long-term absence worried me. I wasn’t worried about missing him; I was worried about allowing him to slip into the space occupied by my family, the neutral gone-but-not-missing space. I would have to schedule regular texts to him, so that even if he forgot to text me, I wouldn’t not-forget him.

It was a bad habit, but I got so absorbed in objectives and actions that nothing else mattered. It was why my parents tried to call me every day, after we’d had almost six months of silence my Freshman year in college; UZ Lakeview was a satellite school just outside of Bunnyburrow, and we  _still_ had not communicated well until they had forced it. In Bunnyburrow, at UZL, and at the academy, my focus had made me a top student, but a not-so-great friend. I had a chance to make a change for the better in Zootopia; since I had achieved my childhood goal, I needed a new one. My new goal was to be a better mammal: more compassionate, less self-absorbed, more engaged with others. I could start with Nick, and maybe Clawhauser if we had more in common than Gazelle and a badge. It would be good to get along with my coworkers anyway, if I wanted to make a safe space for Nick to come back to.

Fleetwood Yak crooned about a Black Magic Woman as I began to leave Savanna Central on foot. I liked the big city, but sometimes it could get so _loud,_ especially when I wasn’t on duty. These off-days were hard. At least back on the farm, as boring and annoying as it had been to be trapped with mammals who mostly didn’t like me, didn’t understand me, and didn’t care to, there had always been work to do. Most of my muscle had been developed through manual labor and years on school gymnastics teams, though my gap year before the academy had taught me that even one year away from the gym made one soft in formerly-solid places.

I needed to act. I didn’t like getting stuck in my head, because my alone-thoughts could send me into a spiral and I didn’t usually have anyone to tell me my ears were drooping anymore. It was still six hours until I could go to open gym at the Happytown Community Athletic Center, but at least I had that to look forward to, and in the meantime, maybe I could try doing Zootopia without Nick at my side.

I decided that yes, I could and would explore more of the city. During the three months between the end of the Nighthowler case and Nick’s departure from Zootopia, I had done safe foot patrols by myself while on duty and helped Nick prepare for the police academy in my spare time. We had focused mostly on the academics, cramming to get him his GED (a solid score, not that either of us had expected anything less, with his memory and intellect) and a little more stamina through morning runs. The runs had introduced me to some parts of town, but not many, as we’d tended to stick to the most temperate routes and that mostly meant the Savanna area. Since I was already familiar with it, I thought the best choice was to start somewhere new. The Rainforest sounded nice. All I had to do was cross over from the intercity station to the intracity station.

(But when I got to the intracity station, I settled on the Heights again. Thinking about the Rainforest District did something to my chest that made my breath come fast and hard.)

As I waited for the C line, I recited police codes in my head. I knew them backward and forward, but it was a position of comfort. I had done the same thing with multiplication tables in school and case numbers for my law classes in college. Resorting to old habits might have made me seem childish, but in private no one could judge me for it.

10-30: robbery in progress.

10-52A: domestic violence alarm.

10-34: assault in progress.

I hoped none of these calls would come in my immediate future. I knew that I could handle any of them, but my intended partner wasn’t available yet, and my off-and-on partner, Olivia Fangmeyer, was too big in comparison to me for us to be an effective team. I was too good at pushing my limits; mammals never _forgot_ that I was a bunny, but it took second place to everything else. After running into that tusk and breaking my leg, though, _I_ knew my limits, even if I forgot sometimes. Because I had asked, Nick would never allow me to forget, but Fangmeyer’s size allowed it.

My worry melted away as the C line began to move and I got to see a sunrise-painted view of the city. It was such a beautiful sight compared to Bunnyburrow, which had always been quite bland to my eyes. I felt like such a tourist sometimes, marveling at sights that Zootopia natives took for granted, but I couldn’t help it. The colors were so rich, the culture was deep and diverse, and every district had so much to offer. There were tiny shops selling drinks I had never tried and books I had never read. There was even a store in Orchard Heights, the artsy, bohemian area, that allowed customers to feel fabric swatches and commission articles of clothing or blankets. The big city offered open mic nights and food festivals and all sorts of new opportunities. I wanted to open my heart wide and consume it all.

I felt a tap on my shoulder and didn’t react violently, although the tap had startled me. I was a police officer now; it was part of my job to practice restraint, especially after that press conference. Getting frazzled put me in a bad mindset. I took one earbud out of my ear and looked over at the hare who’d tapped me. He was brown with black eyes, taller than Nick, but less solid. “Yes?”

“You’re Judy Hopps, right? The bunny cop?”

“I am,” I said, hoping he was just going to confirm his suspicions and move on.

“I thought so.” He sat down next to me. I didn’t scoot over, because I didn’t want to offend him. One could never know what strangers might do in response, and I wanted to be better. “I’m Aaron Bounder. My daughter really looks up to you.”

“She probably doesn’t, unless she’s a young kid,” I replied. He made a face and I realized I’d answered with a joke, like I would have if it were Nick. “Sorry. Uh, I’m flattered. Does she want to be a police officer?”

“Oh, goodness, no. She wants to go to law school. But what you did was inspiring. She gets teased a lot.”

“So did I. It’s just a matter of pushing forward.”

“It isn’t, though,” he said quietly. “Not just any bunny could have saved the city single-pawed like that.”

I smiled at him with a closed mouth before saying, “It wasn’t single-pawed. I had help. Without my partner-”

“The fox?”

 _“Yes,_ the fox. Without him, I wouldn’t have succeeded.”

He cocked his head. “I guess it does take a criminal to know one.”

“Hey!” I did scoot away. If he was going to be rude, I had no reason to be polite, did I? If he tried to start something...there were witnesses. I wouldn’t need to use my police training on a civilian. “Nick’s not a criminal, he’s training to be an officer. He’s brilliant. Why would you say that?”

Aaron held up his paws. “I’m just saying, _statistically_ speaking, your fox would be some kind of criminal.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he also was. Nick wasn’t a criminal, unless his taxes counted. I didn’t think they did. The government would disagree with me if called upon, and that had been my basis for threatening Nick with felony tax evasion charges. But I’d known mammals at UZL who had unpaid taxes for _years,_ and the only thing that happened to them was a tax lien or just a court order for garnishment. I bared my teeth at him, hoping to at least unsettle him. “Statistically speaking, _I_ would be a farmer with two dozen kids by now. Stereotypes are based on what culture forces on us, not who we are. This is my stop.”

It wasn’t. I still had a mile or so left to ride, but it would be better to walk it than to sit there next to him. I put my earbud back into my ear and left the train, already feeling a little bad about the exchange. _I_ wasn’t wrong, but I also was. It was right to stand up for my partner. It was wrong to snap at a stranger...even if it felt right. I’d been wrong to blackmail Nick, too. I didn’t want to be wrong anymore. I wanted to help make the world a better place. I knew I could do it. I would do it, with Nick by my side. And until he could come back to me, I would focus on becoming the best officer – and mammal – that I could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Judy begins an unusual case and MuzzleTimes with Nick.
> 
> Yes, my Judy is autistic, although she doesn't know that yet, and it's not the same stereotypical autism you'll find on, say, "The Good Doctor" (sigh – they tried). I don't intend to make neurodivergence the focus of this fic, but they say to write what you know and I could not get Judy to be anything but the way I wrote her. If you only want to read an NT perspective, this fic isn't for you. I can't speak for others, but I'm really sick of seeing so little representation, and I got autistic vibes from Judy, so here we are. One thing that will be a small-but-present issue is the realities of adult diagnosis and the reluctance so many of us had/have to accepting the label so late in life after being called difficult, obnoxious, or even retarded as children, being told our "weirdness" was something we had to hide...and, lately, seeing all those disgusting mommy blogs that paint autistic kids as a trial parents have to overcome rather than neurodivergent human beings. Since Zootopia is as much about self-acceptance as it is about acceptance of others, one of Judy's eventual obstacles will be to examine all the things that she's been able to push below her objectives and obsessive focus. But, again, this fic will mostly be about the case Judy works on and the time Nick spends at the academy.


	2. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another bad job gone fairly well, Judy and Olivia Fangmeyer pick up a puzzling case. Judy MuzzleTimes with Nick. Lulu addresses some of the movie's plot holes and builds up the world in preparation for the main event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. My laptop died and I lost all the data on it, including all of my writing. I had to rewrite everything and lost motivation for a while.
> 
> See the map attached to the last chapter if you would like to see the way the archipelago is arranged and a few facts about its development. Anima's police/legal system based on, but not identical to, the US system; Anima is its own country, not a copy of anything in the real world.

**Judy Hopps**

When I graduated from the Police Academy, I thought I knew the trajectory of my career. I was to join Zootopia’s Precinct 1, the center of Anima’s premier law enforcement agency. I was to be assigned a senior partner and take small cases until I was qualified to take larger ones. I had never expected to be stuffed in orange and told to write parking tickets, because that wasn’t even a duty Precinct 1 was supposed to deal with. Chief Bogo had stepped on some toes with that speciesist move, and Olivia Fangmeyer was one of the only officers to speak up about that before the missing mammals case, hence our unexpected partnership. Despite our overall difference in mass and temperament, she and I got along as well as distant coworkers could. She preferred cool professionalism most of the time, so I copied her quiet nod each morning and kept it simple.

This morning, we were working the Everglades, the district farthest northeast from the ZPD Precinct 1 station. It reminded me a bit of Bunnyburrow in what sparse architecture it had, but it was more like the Rainforest in climate.

“You ever been here, Hopps?” Fangmeyer asked, keeping her eyes on the water. We were waiting for a boat to show up.

“Yeah, I have. I’m not really happy about this series of assignments,” I replied, taking the rare opportunity to have a real chat with my partner.

“You left just after Lionheart got arrested, didn’t you?”

“...Yes.” She was too smart to not understand the implications of that, but I wouldn’t lie to her. Chief Bogo already knew. If I ever did anything illegal again, I’d be so much more than fired, they’d throw the book at me, but solving the Night Howler case had made everyone a little more forgiving.

She looked at me instead of the water, frowning thoughtfully, but she didn’t seem angry, or at least, I didn’t think she was angry. I’d never even seen her irritated. “Was it bad?”

“Not the ride over. It wasn’t very long, I was small, and I was wearing a bulky biohazard suit so the others wouldn’t go near me. It hurt my brother’s bank account, but...the worst part was the two and a half months I kept myself in isolation. They had no idea if it was just biological imperative, but after I messed up that press conference there were rumors that it was a disease, and on the off chance that I was a carrier…”

“If you had waited another week, you would have known it wasn’t contagious. They lifted all the migration restrictions once they figured that out.”

I shrugged. “I know, and that was my mistake. I just couldn’t be here anymore. Not after what I did. So I took the out when it was offered to me.”

She laughed and turned to the water again. “What _did_ you do? That’s what the rest of us can’t figure out.”

“Well, the press conference, for one,” I said. “It was-”

“Hopps, stop for a second.” I shut my mouth, confused. “If you think what happened during Bellwether’s time in office was your fault, you’re severely misinformed. That was going to happen no matter what anyone said. You could have said aliens were taking over predators’ brains because Zootopia is the only place in the universe you can find Kryptonite anymore, and it would have worked out just the same. Predators and prey have _always_ been at each other’s throats, sometimes in a more literal way than a metaphoric one; the Night Howler situation just tugged what was already there into the light.”

That was information I hadn’t known. It seemed incorrect. Nick had felt personally targeted by what I’d said, even before I insulted him on a more emotional level by showing fear, but why would he have felt that way if what Fangmeyer was saying was true? “That doesn’t sound right at all.”

“That’s probably because you haven’t been here long enough. There are certain factions of prey species who want to stay at the top at the expense of predators, yes...and there are certain factions of plenty of predatory species who think we’re unduly confined by our agreements and ought to go back to the old ways, where eating each other was normal and prey had no power at all. I arrested my own brother three years ago in a raid on a _meat farm._ I’m not going to pretend you didn’t mess up, because you probably did. Everyone’s said stupid things at one time or another. You should have seen my first report; it read like something out of a bad police procedural and had nothing good to say about deer. Out left, do you see anything?”

“No.”

“Hear anything?”

“Nothing but the water and wildlife.”

“Me too. Damn. Anyway, I don’t even remember what you said, except that you looked terrified until you started reciting that ridiculous play they make us perform in school. I do remember there was some asshole who pulled you aside and threatened you after, but he was gone by the time anybody could back you up.”

“Some ass – _Nick?_ No, he didn’t threaten me. He’s in the Academy right now. That was the other thing. I failed to serve and protect, Fangmeyer, even on a personal level. He was my only friend in the city, and I put him in danger instead of protecting him, and what I said...wasn’t in service to anyone. I hurt him. I hurt you.”

“And you hurt the rest of Zootopia by taking a good cop out of the equation,” Fangmeyer said gently. “I get where you’re coming from. The first mistake every cop makes is a defining thing. Your first mistake wasn’t anything you said at the press conference, though. Your first mistake was believing that mammals are inherently good. We’re not. Give us half a chance and a big enough group, and we’ll tear each other apart. That’s why the ZPD exists.”

“But the ZPD isn’t above bigotry,” I said, thinking of how Chief Bogo had treated both me and Nick during the case, how Fangmeyer was required to keep her claws dull, and how two sheep officers had aided Mayor Bellwether in her plot. “If what you say is true, then…”

“I don’t think about it too much. None of us do, lest we drive ourselves crazy. Hey, out to the left; that’s it. That’s what we’re waiting for.”

The craft pulling into the small makeshift dock was a small boat for Fangmeyer, but a big one for me. It wasn’t the same one that had taken me back to Bunnyburrow months before, but they looked alike. Standard smuggler’s boat that ran routes from the mainland to Anima and back again. While they sometimes brought cheaper medicines along for the communities who couldn’t afford the stuff made in our little archipelago, the most common thing was bring mammals from other countries to the Caterpillar Islands where there was a thriving but thus far untraceable forgery operation. In my case, they’d taken me from the Everglades to the shores of my home island, just an hour or so outside Bunnyburrow. I hadn’t planned to leave at all, but one of my brothers had arranged it without asking me, and...I had hurt the only mammal in Zootopia I might have called a friend, so the isolation in our farm’s decontamination center sounded like a pretty decent beginning to a long penance.

They taught us in the Academy that smugglers were bad and it was our job, as enforcers of the law, to arrest them. But my stint as an item of contraband had changed my perspective somewhat. I’d been wedged in a compartment with a few other bunnies who were fleeing a civil war in Arendelle, and they’d looked at these coyotes like they were gods. It wasn’t hard to decide if they were wrong; almost everyone who got onto a boat like this ended up where they needed to go, if only because smuggling was a reliable revenue stream that depended on trust and reputation in the communities it served. On my boat, the bunnies all _knew_ that the price was painful, and that maybe the ones operating our boat would turn out to be part of the small percentage who were untrustworthy; we could turn into a horror story, be taken somewhere and held ransom for more money... _but it didn’t matter._ It was worth the risk, for the slightest chance at a better life.

Other countries had immigration enforcement departments, but Anima was small enough that it made more sense for the local police to take care of this, so the task fell to me and Fangmeyer. I didn’t want to make the arrest, though. It made me sick to think that I had accepted what the Academy had taught me, simply because I wanted to be the best officer that I could. I came from a family who knew that the stories of mammals going missing and being killed or trafficked were mostly just stupid propaganda; my own maternal grandmother had come from outside Anima on a boat much less sophisticated than that one; but I had blinded myself.

Now, I wasn’t allowed to recuse myself as part of my deal with the DA. Zootopia’s government was under intense scrutiny from public and private sectors; for the first time in history, the ZPD was seen as a force of justice despite policies that were corrupt. The decision to allow me my badge back had been completely, disgustingly political; they didn’t want to be seen punishing the cop who had nearly lost her life saving Zootopia from the corrupt Mayor’s speciesist scheme. In public, I received a commendation. In private, I would not advance for a long, _long_ time, and might never be off my unofficial probation.

These assignments were part of my punishment for breaking the law. It was possible I would have to arrest the very same mammals who had taken me home from St. Zoo. I still believed in the spirit of the justice system, but it was hard to look at myself as a force for good when I was arresting mammals who saved lives just because they didn’t do it the way the Anima government wanted it done.

“You ready for this, Hopps?” Fangmeyer asked, unclipping her dart gun. I did the same, following the lead of my superior officer.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Then let’s go.”

I followed her to the boat. According to Steering, the mammal who researched and tracked smuggling patterns, the Everglades was a good place to stop and refuel. The locals had a blind-eye policy. I hoped this was a stop they’d made _after_ dropping off their load at the Caterpillar Islands, or if nothing else, that they were only carrying _items_ rather than _mammals._ I didn’t want to have to send a bunch of scared folks to processing, where they would eventually get shipped back to where they’d come from.

“Stop right there,” Fangmeyer said, “and put your paws up.”

The two mammals, more coyotes, did as they were told. I backed up my partner, keeping an eye out for any others. I didn’t think there would be, but it wasn’t a guarantee. My tranquilizer gun wouldn’t work on a mammal as large as Fangmeyer, but it would drop anything smaller than a full-grown wolf. We didn’t really expect company, anyway, but we had to follow protocol.

“Hey, tiger lady, we just need to refuel,” said one of the coyotes. He made eye contact with his partner. The partner shrugged and the first one said, “Actually, would you mind helping us? The nearest fuel station is a mile that way.”

Fangmeyer shook her head. “Open the C-8 hatch you installed in the back of your boat.”

“The one we use for our fishing gear? I don’t think so. You cops are all the same. I open my hatch and you sniff a little, pretend you smell drugs, take us in on bogus charges and try to scare us into confessing just in case our private fishing is somehow a threat to Big Aquatic Farms’ monopoly on the fish business. I know my rights.”

“Then you know what it means that I have a warrant to search your vehicle,” she returned aggressively, showing her teeth as she handed a paper copy of the warrant to them to read.

The other coyote spoke. “How could you possibly have a warrant to search _our_ boat when we didn’t even know we were coming until we were half a mile out?”

“This _is_ the Beast from Below, isn’t it? Registration number AN6470009?”

The first one growled at us as the second reluctantly went to open the hatch. I made a mental note to ask Fangmeyer later what he had meant about bogus charges. Surely the ZPD would never do such a thing, right? We were supposed to uphold and protect the law and the citizens, not circumvent protocol and arrest mammals who didn’t deserve to be arrested. That was the stuff of bad cop dramas. Corruption. Maybe even brutality. The ZPD had shown itself to be full of negative bias, but _surely_ that didn’t leave the house?

I followed my partner onto the boat. She looked at me, frowned, and said, “You keep these folks company for me, Hopps. Cover my back.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I looked into the hatch briefly and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no one in there. Judging by the smell, that was a recent development. Someone, probably a small child, had defecated recently, and although I couldn’t tell which species they’d been or how many mammals had been squished together, I could tell that there had been at least three different species in the hold. I took another deep breath and relaxed as much as I could with two large predators giving me at least half their attention. I could fit most of my head in Nick’s mouth. These coyotes could probably bite my head right off. I didn’t expect them to, but Nick would be learning very soon to prepare for the very worst scenario. As prone to awfulizing as he was, he already excelled at that.

The two suspects talked to each other quietly while Fangmeyer poked around. I didn’t recognize the language, but it sounded similar to Lapine, so I assumed they were from a region close to where my maternal grandmother was from. While they spoke, I kept my gun trained on one of them. If they tried to run, I might lose one, but I would at least drop the other.

 _Please,_ I thought to myself. _Please don’t run. Please don’t make me defend myself either._

Ever since the Night Howler case, I had worried about that. If threatened, I had to react at full capacity, because I was so much smaller than most of the mammals we needed to confront. Legally speaking, even if I injured someone beyond the point of necessity, it wouldn’t be police brutality, because of the strict letter of the laws regarding conflict between mammals of differing sizes. But I didn’t think that was right. I had more training than most normal citizens, so although I had less mass, I could manipulate that mass more efficiently. How much force was too much? I didn’t want to lose my life, either, if I responded with too little. This was probably why Chief Bogo had hated me so much. Sometimes I got the impression that he still didn’t know what to do with me, even if he was being nice now. I was a walking PR nightmare, even excluding my press conference. If I made the wrong choice, I could be needlessly dead on his watch...or someone else could be. That was the choice and responsibility each officer accepted when they put on the badge, though, even McHorn, who probably could only permanently be put out of commission by someone in the megafauna class who’d been trained...unless there were old-fashioned guns involved. There were still a fair few in circulation, even after technology had moved forward enough to make crude killing machines obsolete.

“You’re in luck, fellows,” Fangmeyer said, poking her head out of the hatch. She’d had to crouch just to search it, which was probably why she’d had me cover her, although I couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t sent me in to do the search. “I’m sure whoever you dropped off is _very_ happy.”

One of the coyotes growled at us, but the other put his paw on his partner’s arm and said quietly, “Leave it alone, _duja._ These ones aren’t out for blood.” He looked at Fangmeyer. “We’re free to go?”

“You’re free to go,” she confirmed. As a parting shot, she added, “Don’t forget to charge double for whoever filled your hatch with shit.”

The angry one made a rude gesture. Fangmeyer rolled her eyes and we watched them lock up their hatch before we headed to our cruiser. She seemed to be upset, which was surprising, as she was good at hiding her reactions. I hoped it wasn’t because she hadn’t found anything. The two coyotes took fuel canisters, one in each paw, and began to walk toward the nearest town. I was religious in the same way that most bunnies were religious – I drank wine on major holidays and always got the Ancient Lapine greetings mixed up on the unfortunate occasions that I came into contact with clergy – but I sent a little prayer to the stars anyway, hoping they wouldn’t meet with more misfortune.

“Hopps,” my partner said. “Hopps!”

“Yes?”

“We’re getting a different assignment. Going forward we’re not doing immigration.”

I looked at her without turning my head. She still looked the way she had when we were watching our suspects walk away. She wasn’t looking at me, as she was driving and needed to focus on the road, but I knew that she was aware of what I was doing. “Why?”

“Because I said so,” she replied, making me try (and fail) to hold in a laugh. She wasn’t a mother, so she must have had lots of siblings. “And...because you can barely do this job. We have more cases that you and I can tackle that would be better suited to our skill set, and I’m done being demeaned because some dumbass on high thinks punishing you is more important than serving and protecting.”

“I can do this job,” I said, even though I was glad to hear that she was going to try to get us out of it.

“Everybody important knows you’re competent, Hopps, you don’t have to force yourself into stupid situations to prove yourself. You were practically hyperventilating out there. I get it; you have personal experience being shoved in a hold like that one. It would give anybody a bad reaction. I’m not asking your input, I’m stating a fact.”

“We don’t get to choose our assignments, though.”

 _“You_ don’t get to choose _your_ assignments. I do. I’m allowed to recuse myself, and you’re assigned to me for the duration of your probationary period, so if I make this decision, they either have to reassign you or accept that we’ll be taking different cases. Lucky for you, you’re a pretty big deal right now. Most of our immigration department is sniffers and megafauna, and we all agreed that if the Chief tries to reassign you, we’ll circulate. Make you toxic to the department.”

“Uh...why?” I asked in confusion. “Why would anybody agree? I can understand your motives; you and I work well together, and your partner is on maternity leave. They don’t even know me.”

She made a sound that wasn’t laughter, but could be mistaken for it. “You’re not cut out for this part of the job. Bogo knows it, Steering knows it, the only ones who don’t know it are the ones who gave the order. You trained for Special Investigations. That’s where we _both_ belong. It wasn’t an accident that you were assigned to me. Everybody in immigration is annoyed you and I are there fumbling through assignments we didn’t train for.”

“I didn’t think of that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Her smile showed far too many teeth to be polite, but I didn’t mind. I thought it was a cute smile, truth be told, although that was almost as rude for a bunny to say to another mammal as it was for another mammal to say to a bunny. It made her look like a big kid. “When you showed up in the SI briefing room that first day, I figured someone was hazing you. But then I looked up your Academy records.”

I accidentally squeaked a little in embarrassment. “That’s legal?”

“Your _records,_ Hopps, not your grades. As in, the records you set. I was impressed.”

“There were only two.”

“Yeah, but they were important for SI. And you _were_ valedictorian.”

I shrugged. The praise was making me uncomfortable. Marksmanship had been as easy as breathing; I’d grown up shooting a variety of pump action weapons, dart guns, and even old-style pellet guns. Mammals didn’t eat each other anymore, but large birds still went for bunnies all the time, and if we didn’t get them, they’d get us. I had lost a littermate to a falcon as a kid, and that had inspired me to learn to shoot as well as I could. As for the other record, my scores in the SI “hunting” exams, that had amounted to nothing in real life. I’d been a great hunter at the Academy, either carrying my team successfully through the maze-like day-long situations or going it alone when we were doing “worst case scenario” sims. Trying to find Mr. Otterton had been blunder after blunder of the type and magnitude that I hadn’t even made the first time I’d tried the hunting sim.

It was nice to hear that Fangmeyer believed I could do the job I’d trained for. Some mammals couldn’t hack it in real life, and they spent the rest of their careers as beat cops unless or until they improved. There was nothing shameful about that; we needed those as much as we needed specialists and the pay was decent. But that wasn’t my dream.

“...Thank you,” I said. “For...understanding.”

She tapped the steering wheel for a little while before asking, “Your mom’s an immigrant, isn’t she?”

“Technically her litter was born here. Two days after my grandmother arrived.”

“Bastards,” she muttered under her breath, and I didn’t know who she was referring to, but I didn’t envy them. Anyone unfortunate enough to make Fangmeyer express actual anger was in for a rough time. They’d be feeling the effects of whatever tongue lashing she gave them for weeks.

* * *

I tried to mind my own business, but Chief Bogo’s office door was not sound-proof, and Fangmeyer wasn’t bothering to keep her voice down. I could hear the growl in her voice, and it gave me a warm feeling to know that she was as passionate about SI as I was.

“You know why you’re working the Everglades,” Chief Bogo said, sounding as irritable as ever. He had a decent growl himself. I didn’t doubt that he would scare the pants off anybody he happened to corner in a dark-to-mildly-shady alley, even if he were carrying cotton candy and get-well balloons.

“Yeah, I know someone above your head saddled me with their least favorite affirmative action project,” Fangmeyer replied. I didn’t know whether she was being honest or just using language the Chief would relate to, but either she was hiding her feelings from him, or she’d hid them from me in the cruiser. I heard someone shift in their chair. “Are you telling me that my partner and I are unqualified to do the job we were hired to do, Chief? Officially?”

“You know that’s not the case.”

“Is it? Because thus far we’ve had three misses on our I.C.E. warrants and Steering is starting to wonder if Hopps’ bias is affecting my performance. If that’s the case, my only logical course of action is to move back to Special Investigations and take my partner with me.”

“I’ll move you back to SI, but I can’t send Hopps with you, _and you know it.”_

“Of course, I have no power over you,” she said, with the same tone as Nick at his most sweetly sarcastic, “but I’m going to point out that my partner is psychologically unfit for immigration, and if you choose to keep us there we will probably be _less_ effective. You’re not legally obligated to follow the orders of politicians, no matter what they say. The deal with the DA states that Hopps cannot recuse herself from these cases, not that you’re required to assign them.”

“You’ve never been one for loopholes, Olivia.”

“I’ve never needed to be. Until recently, I had faith in the department to do the right thing for myself and my fellow officers. Now I’m not sure if our purpose is to protect and serve our people, or to protect and serve the politicians who routinely screw us over.”

My mouth fell open. She was as good as calling out his integrity. I couldn’t imagine that would end well for either of us. I didn’t know the specifics of Fangmeyer’s position within the complicated hierarchy of the ZPD, but I did know that SI officers in particular had more authority and less restrictions. We needed to be able to investigate aggressively, and that meant keeping certain secrets or arguing with our superiors for resources. I hadn’t expected Fangmeyer to take advantage of it for a case we didn’t even have yet, though.

To my surprise, the Chief laughed. I’d never heard him laugh before. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. You’ve always been a little shit. I _am_ a little surprised it took this long. Oh, look at this. A case file. How interesting that you happened to come to me just as I finished reviewing it. If you absolutely _must_ take Hopps with you, then I’ll approve it on a temporary basis. If you prove that you’re an effective team, I’ll take you both out of I.C.E. permanently.”

Somehow, I didn’t think this was the same kind of deal I’d had to strike with him to get Mr. Otterton’s case. It was open-ended and vague enough that we could botch the case and still prove to be an _effective team._ I saw Fangmeyer’s shadow as she stood, and although I felt very small, it wasn’t intimidating anymore. “Thank you, Chief. We’ll be in the briefing room tomorrow to make our report.”

The door opened. I stopped leaning against the wall and watched Fangmeyer stride out with a satisfied smile on her face. She stopped short as she looked over at me. “Well, well, Hopps, I’d almost forgotten what your smile looked like. Come on, we’re headed to the Rainforest District.”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, standing up as tall as I could. I still barely reached her knee.

“Sir was my father. You should call me Liv. Everyone else in our department does,” she joked.

Her previous statement was true; I hadn’t smiled much since the beginning of our string of cases with I.C.E. Now, I couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t have to worry about arresting the mammals who’d helped me all those months prior. I was about to get back to doing what I had made my goal fifteen years ago, at nine years old. I had an unexpected friend and ally, a new case, and in ten months – conveniently the same amount of time that Anya Clawfoot, Fangmeyer’s original partner, would come back from maternity leave – my best friend would join me as my permanent partner.

“Thanks, Liv. You can call me Judy.”

“Sounds good, Judy. Now come on, we have a case!”

She made that same face that made her look like a kid. In a way, I could see Nick in my mind when she did it, even though they were as different as could be. Surprising myself with the sudden rush of affection for Liv, I didn’t think the months that Nick would be in the Police Academy would drag on forever.

* * *

I hadn’t been back to the Rainforest District since Mr. Manchas had chased Nick and me after being shot with Night Howler serum. I’d avoided it because every time I thought about returning, my heart just about beat out of my chest; residual fear, or old memories, or whatever it was that caused that physical reaction, always halted me before I could even step on the train. It was the same kind of fear that had caused me to go for my only weapon and then freeze like a child when Nick had tried to scare me at that awful press conference, so I knew that with enough effort I could overcome it, even if it might always hum in the back of my mind like an electric buzz.

The truth was, other officers thought they were being nice to me when they said I was hardly a bunny. They called me “practically a predator” sometimes, expecting me to take it as a compliment, but I _was_ a bunny. I was scared of everything, just like my parents and siblings. I just chose not to allow it space to grow when I needed to be fearless. I could disconnect from it in most situations, like any good officer could do. Things like this were different. I knew the official term for this kind of recurring visual phenomenon was “flashbacks,” but I didn’t have the PTSD that usually went along with it. I just...always remembered things visually, and occasionally I got caught off-guard when the experience was overwhelming.

 _Don’t let them see that they get to you,_ Nick’s voice said into my mental ear, and I straightened my posture before I jumped down from the tiger-sized cruiser. I wouldn’t let anyone see that this was getting to me, because there was no reason for it to get to me at all. I had a partner with me in any case; she could have my back better than any shallow platitude could.

Our destination was a small apartment building built into the dirt and trees that housed mammals under two feet tall. Our contact didn’t live there; instead, the jaguar managed the building and two others for different size brackets. I walked as closely as I could to Liv as we approached the managing office, which was about as big as three or four apartments put together.

“Why don’t you take this one,” suggested Liv just before we reached the managing office.

I couldn’t help smiling at the faith she showed in me. “I can do that!”

Although I was to go in first, Liv opened the door for me so that I wouldn’t have to jump to reach the handle. Jumping wouldn’t look professional, especially in front of a witness who may have been a suspect in the odd case we’d been assigned by the Chief. I could hardly see above the desk even from the doorway, but I’d never let that stop me before; I just pulled myself up onto the chair as Liv attracted the jaguar’s attention by saying hello.

“Hi,” said the jaguar – Lily Darkfur – with a frown. She looked between me and Liv. “Can I help you, uh, find a place, or…?”

“I’m Judy Hopps, ZPD,” I stated proudly. I couldn’t help it. Just saying the words aloud made me happy. “This is my partner, Olivia Fangmeyer. We’re here because of-”

“The dead guys, yeah,” Darkfur said, upper lip curled to show a hint of her sharp teeth. “Thank the gods, I was starting to think the medical examiner hadn’t bothered to tell you anything. I only called this one in about thirty minutes ago; you sure do work fast.”

We’d gotten the assignment an hour and a half ago, but we didn’t need to tell her that. “It’s our job to serve the community. Ms. Darkfur, I’m not sure I can fit into the building-”

“Yeah, I called Sanitation and they sent in a couple of squirrels. I’m guessing the body’s on its way to the city morgue right now.”

I wished she would stop interrupting me. That was more annoying than I was willing to let show. I kept my smile on my face, though. “That’s part of the problem, Ma’am. We, and our CI team, need to be able to examine the scene untouched if we want to be able to determine whether this is a serial homicide case or we need to begin a medical investigation. Now that there are five, sorry, _six_ instances, it’s a pattern that we can’t ignore.”

“Well, then, get a team together who can fit, or come back when someone in the larger complex drops dead. I’m not letting you take the roof off.”

I glanced at Liv, whose face was carefully blank. She didn’t seem to want to interrupt, so I continued, “Please don’t call sanitation or emergency services if another mammal dies on your property. About your other buildings...mammals are dying in all three, is that correct?”

“Yeah,” she said. She began typing again. It was probably a way for her to feel more comfortable, but I thought it was a little rude. “It’s been really inconvenient, you know? Potential renters hear about this stuff. They start thinking maybe there’s something wrong with my buildings, even though we’ve consistently scored high in our conditions assessments. If these assholes don’t stop dying, I’m gonna lose too much business.”

“That’s...pragmatic of you,” I said diplomatically. She didn’t seem like someone who would kill off her tenants, but we couldn’t rule it out yet.

“...Wait.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked between me and Liv once again. “Do I need to get a lawyer?”

“Of course not, we’re just asking questions,” I said, putting extra perk into my voice. Lots of mammals said it was contagious, and I always took it as a compliment, even when those mammals were glaring at me over their coffee cups in the morning.

“Okay, but like...I watch TV. Cops always arrest the guy who’s dumb enough to answer questions without a lawyer. I’m not saying another thing until I’ve done my Zoogling and I have representation. And by the way, sending in a Bunny Scout and a giant cat? Not the best way to make me talk. You both hurt my eyes. Go away.”

“We still need access to the scene-”

“Come back with a warrant.”

Liv sighed. “Come on, Hopps, we have a warrant to pick up. Thank you for your time, Ma’am.”

We hadn’t requested a warrant, and technically, we were allowed to investigate a murder scene without one. Then again, this wasn’t a murder scene until we could determine whether or not this was a murder case. To make that determination, we could get a warrant to search the scene from a judge, but we’d probably have to wait for another body before we could see a full scene. Someone either in the ZPD, emergency medical, or the ME’s office had been asleep on the job, because this hadn’t even come up on the ZPD’s radar until the day prior. Our case file had said that the landlord, Lily Darkfur, had made five prior reports to a receiving cop directly, but she didn’t seem to know that. What did that mean?

All five of the previous mammals had died of seemingly natural causes, according to the case file. The only things they had in common was that they were dying in properties managed by Darkfur, and they’d all died within the last month. One or two deaths might have gone unnoticed, but _six_ including this newest one indicated that something else might be going on. We needed to either rule it out or confirm it and investigate properly.

I followed Liv out the door and made sure it was shut all the way before I asked, “What’s our next move?”

“We wait,” she replied. “The ME should be done with the autopsy within a day or two, maybe longer if Dr. Barkovich is overloaded, and in the meantime, we request a warrant. And we wait for another mammal to die.”

“Maybe they won’t. I mean, maybe the deaths will stop,” I suggested. “Maybe it really is just a coincidence.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you really believe that, Judy?”

“Well...no.” I looked away, wishing that I could be as optimistic about this as I sounded, but police officers needed to prepare for the worst case scenario. “But we can hope, can’t we?”

“Yeah, here’s hoping. Between you and me, though?” She tapped her own nose. “I’m pretty sure it’s murder.”

* * *

I had promised to text Nick every day and MuzzleTime him every Saturday, so the day after Liv and I had started our first SI case together, I sat down on my bed and dialed his number from my app. We’d hit a dead end, literally, until the ME could give us her report; according to the meticulous work of the bamboo rats in the CI department, there was no evidence of foul play in the apartment, and I hadn’t been much help in overseeing the operation, as at nearly three feet tall, I’d barely been able to fit through the door.

Nick’s face appeared on the screen and he said, “Hey, Carrots! Aren’t you a sight for sore everything.”

Hearing his voice made me warm. I hadn’t missed him, precisely, but now that I was talking to him, I realized that I _did_ miss him. I knew my smile probably looked silly, but who cared? I felt he should know I was happy to see him. “Hi, Slick. Academy’s treating you well, then?”

“If by _well_ you mean like it wants to steal the lunch money I don’t have, then sure. I didn’t know I even had muscles in half the places that are aching right now. How’s work treating you?”

“Good. Great, actually, I just got moved from I.C.E. Have you thought about what you want to specialize in?”

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously it’s going to be Special Investigations. What kind of partner would I be if I wasn’t even in your department? Why’d you make me play detective to find that out, anyway?”

“I just didn’t want to influence your decision,” I explained. “I mean, if you want to do something else, who am I to interfere? I meant it when I said you’d be a great cop, and I didn’t just mean as my partner. If there’s something that catches your interest, we can still work together, even if we’re not partners. It’s not like I would hold it against you.”

“I know. I’m not doing this for you, Fluff, as much as I’m sure that hurts your precious feelings.” He probably thought his smirk was magnificent, but his flinch when he waved his right arm destroyed any chance of that. “SI sounds like it’s the right fit for me anyway, so long as I can actually get through this year of Hell.”

“It’s not a year,” I said. “And it’s not Hell, either. It’s a learning experience.”

“Yeah, it sure is. For one, I’m learning how much of a masochist you must be. And how much of one _I_ must be, for going along with it. How’d you get through this, again?”

“Slowly. Trust me, I wasn’t setting any records at first, except for the shooting ones. Everybody expected me to fail. Even me, at my worst moment. You’ll get stronger, Nick. I bet you’ll set some records yourself.”

His smirk turned into a real smile, something softer and more pleasant, and he leaned his muzzle on his fist. I wondered if he was sitting at a desk somewhere. The Academy didn’t make _too_ much time for intellectual subjects unless one wanted to specialize in a more intellectual area, like SI, but they had plenty of desks for studying training manuals and the like. “I keep forgetting how cool it is that you believe in me. Not that I blame you; I _am_ awesome. But feel free to keep telling me.”

“I’ve always believed in you.”

“Except at first.”

“Well, okay, that was a bad first meeting. You were acting shady and I was a jerk who took it at face value.”

“I was _being_ shady,” he shot back, amused. “I thought it was hilarious that you didn’t even think to question my story. Finnick and I had a good laugh about it later, but I guess you got me back. With the whole blackmail thing. Man, you could have held that over me _forever.”_

“Wait...that blackmail wasn’t _real,”_ I said with a couple of blinks.

“What?” Nick asked blankly.

“Surely you knew?” He stared at me through the screen. I didn’t know whether it was sad or comical. “Nick, I wasn’t in the system. I couldn’t run a plate. How was I supposed to get your tax transcripts if I couldn’t even print Weaselton after arresting him for theft? And even _with_ credentials, it takes _weeks_ to subpoena the IRS! That folder had a blank form and that’s it. I thought you’d have figured that out already.”

He dropped his face onto his paws. “You hustled me. You hustled me _better_ than I thought you did. How did you know, though? If you didn’t have my records…”

I bit my lip trying to hold in laughter. This was precious. “It was a guess. It was all a big honking goose of a guess. You spend long enough trying to puzzle out why mammals do what they do and you get a sense of the way certain types tend to think; I figured it was more likely than not that you hadn’t paid your taxes. You dealt in cash, from a quick glance I could see that your food permit was issued under a different name than your license to transport commerce, and due to the bracket ratios, $200 per day doesn’t let a medium-sized mammal like you breathe easy in this city unless it’s tax free.”

“Oh my god. Oh my _god.”_ He pulled at his ears in distress. It was...well, it was cute, in the same way I’d call another bunny cute. Nick did a lot of cute things when he wasn’t pretending to be cool. “You lied to me!”

“It’s called a hustle, Sweetheart,” I replied, mostly for symmetry.

“No, you don’t understand. You lied to me and _I didn’t notice._ Carrots, I _always_ notice.”

“Are you...really upset by this?” I asked him. It wasn’t funny anymore if he was having a real problem with it, but he sometimes played up the drama for humor’s sake, and I wasn’t sure if this was one of those times or not.

“No. Maybe. Yes.” His ears flattened. “For a long time, that’s what has defined me. I’m a conman, I’m a thinker. And you out-maneuvered me after talking to me for three minutes tops. How many other mammals saw through my methods, but didn’t have any pressing reason to call me on it?”

“Probably none. And I don’t say that because I think I’m special, or somehow smarter. I was _desperate._ You tricked me when I wanted to be tricked, Nick, and most of the time mammals want to be tricked. You taught me that. But when an otter’s life was on the line, I knew I needed to get at your information, even if it meant reverse engineering what you did to hustle me in the first place.”

“So, what, you just copied me?”

“Yes, that’s how it works, right? You’ll have a short course on interrogation and basic negotiation – not crisis stuff, but talking – and what they’ll teach you is that you should first try to find a way to make the perp think your offer is the best option. One of the best ways is to copy something, like the way they move their head when they talk, or if you have good enough hearing and rhythm, the way they breathe. It’s kind of a subliminal message: we’re the same. It doesn’t really make sense to me, but it worked with you, didn’t it?”

“I’m...not sure that’s how that’s meant to be applied, but I guess you’re technically correct.” He sighed, but it was a heavier sigh. I would have classified it as sarcastic, based on our interactive history. “Out-hustled by an honest cop. My mother would be ashamed.”

“What? Why?” I asked curiously.

“Because she always told me that whatever I did with my life, I should strive to be the best. I mean, she was already annoyed with me for hustling lemmings and mice; I’m sure she expected me to choose “lawyer” or “doctor” or “stunt driver” or something else in that category, not “conman,” but still.”

The weird train of thought threw me off-balance a little bit. “How is a stunt driver like a lawyer?”

“I don’t know, how _is_ a stunt driver like a lawyer?”

“I...oh, cheese and crackers, you’re _incorrigible.”_ Unable to hide my admiration, I added, “But very good at predictions. You’ll do well in SI.”

“Assuming I don’t die in the next ten months,” he said, his pleased preening at odds with his darker statement.

“You’re going to be top of your class, I just know it. I _do_ believe in you, Nick.”

“Thank you,” he said, quiet and genuine. His little smile made my chest tighten. It was so good to see these little signs that he wasn’t really miserable training to be an officer. It was good to have a solid partnership to look forward to.

I smiled back. “You’re welcome. So tell me about your week. How many nicknames does Major Friedkin have for you?”

“Too many,” Nick groaned good-naturedly. Yeah, he was going to do just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Why is Liv so casual about the timeframe in which the ME will get back to them?** In the United States, there is usually only one medical examiner in a county, and sometimes that ME takes bodies from other counties too because there just aren't enough examiners to go around. (When a medical doctor could do anything else in the medical field, how many forensic pathologists do you think are practicing in the US?) A body is only supposed to be at the ME's office for about 24-48 hours for an autopsy, but it's secretly not uncommon for a body to be in storage for much longer. Sometimes they're in really bad shape when they're finally released to a mortuary, and preservation/reconstruction are often impossible in those cases. Closed-casket funerals aren't only for really traumatic deaths. Sometimes, if it looks like foul play or the body was found by an uninvolved third party _and_ the ME is swamped, there just isn't a way to save Grandma from looking like someone melted her from the inside.


	3. Accounting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick learns a lesson in humility and ponders friendship. Meanwhile, Judy and Liv talk to the ME and the case takes a turn for the weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter may be hard to read, but it has to be done. I go into detail in my end notes, if you're interested in _why,_ but until then, here is a content warning for brief psychological manipulation of Nick and also mentions of sexual assault, though not of any canon characters.

**Nick Wilde**

Based solely on the stories Judy had told me, I had pictured the Police Academy as an almost completely physical training center, but there were certain things we needed to know, lest we get weeded out at the beginning. She probably hadn’t thought twice about the academics, middle school algebra and basic literacy and pattern recognition, _if all toogs are skoobs and some bloops are skoobs, then._ I knew I was smart, but even with that advantage on my side, there was a difference between a college-educated, highly-motivated young woman and a thirty-something cheapskate who hadn’t bothered to finish high school.

I was playing my lack of education pretty close to the chest, mostly because I didn’t want to give my fellow trainees any ammunition. It was already bad enough that I was lagging behind in the physical training courses; I didn’t think I could bear to get shit for “typical fox illiteracy” on top of everything, not when I was actually _trying,_ and this was why I’d stopped for so long: being representative of my species was exhausting. It was logically easier to embrace stereotypes than to live under constant scrutiny, one tiny mistake overwriting a lifetime of good decisions. I’d seen what it did to my parents; Dad, a hard-working tailor, dead of a stroke due to an “accidental mix-up” in the ER, and Mom, a paralegal who made less than the receptionist, scraping to make ends meet, _still_ facing accusations of “illegitimate gains” from the landlord. Heather Snow, an Arctic vixen on the St. Zoo Oversight Committee, had an informal vlog where once a week her intern – a sweet-faced caribou with the voice of an angel – read all her specifically speciesist hate mail.

(Petty? Yes. Hilarious? Definitely. Effective? Probably not, but _I_ never missed an episode.)

At the ZPA, I was a predator, which meant I had a situational social advantage. But I was also a fox, so that advantage was tiny. Of course, that was all theoretical; this was a new environment, one I hadn’t gotten a chance to analyze, what with the week and a half of bone-deep aches and struggling to remember material that should have come easily. I usually tried to think of what Judy might say if she heard me complaining about how it wasn’t fair, but I could hardly keep her face in my mind when I had a bag wrapped around my head and two burly mammals dragging me by my arms into another building. They’d gotten me while I was asleep, whoever “they” were. The bag smelled overwhelmingly of garlic and sweat and fear. The fear was probably mine.

I didn’t struggle, because they didn’t deserve it. Whatever was coming, I would face it with the kind of dignity I knew they didn’t expect from a fox, and later I would throw it in their faces somehow. If I had to be a sneaky little snitch and get these mammals thrown out for hazing, well, the change in career afforded me a little wiggle room, didn’t it? There was no honor among thieves, but there was (ostensibly) honor amongst officers. I allowed them to manhandle me, to sit me in a chair and cuff my paws to a cold metal table. So it was to be like this, muzzled all over again.

 _Kick them,_ Judy’s voice chirped, and I wondered how badly _she’d_ been hazed in her second week. She was a lot to handle. Grating, perky, all the wrong kinds of devious with none of the roguish charm that otherwise might have made her seem cool instead of off-putting. Her classmates, if they were anything like mine, would have hated her more or less upon meeting her.

I didn’t kick. I waited for the bag to be pulled off my head and used every trick in the book to keep my expression neutral when I came face-to-face with Major Friedkin. So it was to be like this, systems error all over again.

“Evening, Major,” I said pleasantly.

“Wilde.” Her gruff voice carried far louder than mine did. “Packrich, Wexley, leave us.”

 _Wexley?_ I hadn’t planned to make friends, but out of everyone, I’d thought we’d gotten along pretty well. We were nominally allies on the parts of the obstacle course that were hard to navigate. She was an undersized wolf with a psych degree who’d spent her college years as a child advocate adjacent to the foster system, but I wasn’t a kid, so maybe that meant I didn’t count. Allies, my curvy red ass. But she wasn’t important. The only important mammals were the Major and me. The rest of the world could wait.

“If you wanted to have a midnight rendezvous, you coulda just sent a note,” I began, deliberately obtuse. There was a laptop on the edge of the desk. A camera in the corner. One door, one window too high up on the wall to be of any use, even if it hadn’t been barred. The Major herself was unarmed, or as unarmed as a polar bear ever got. “Do you like me? Yes, definitely, absolutely-”

“Why are you here, Wilde?”

“Because I’m too devastatingly handsome for you to resist?”

She didn’t smile, so much as she bared her teeth in such a way that made my fur bristle. I was very aware of the cuffs that attached me to the table she was capable of flipping with a flick of her wrist. “That the routine you performed to get Hopps on her knees, fox? Or did you cook it up special just for me?”

A growl welled up in my chest and I didn’t bother to suppress it. We were both predators, and she was threatening more than just me. “You can hate me all you want, Major, but she’s off-limits. Don’t you _dare.”_

“Why would I hate you? Hate requires passion. You’re too pathetic for that,” she said disdainfully. And it hurt, because that was the same thought that plagued me day in and day out. I _was_ pathetic, by birth and by careful costuming. But she didn’t stop there. “Funny that you’d be so protective of her, though.”

“Right, because I’m a fox, and we don’t have friends,” I shot back, adjusting my posture to be deliberately lazy. Whatever her game was, I didn’t want to play, but if I had to, I was going to win.

“True. And the ones you do have, you abandon without hesitation.”

A terribly compelling image presented itself. This wasn’t about me at all, was it? It was about Judy. “Are you seriously judging me for leaving Hopps after she _betrayed me?”_

“Betrayed…” The Major burst into raucous laughter, even going so far as to pound her fist on the undersized table. I only jumped a little at the noise. “You – _hahaha –_ oh my god, you really are pathetic, aren’t you? Oh, boo-hoo, my poor widdle feewings are hurt, my wife is ruined cuz the big mean bunny rabbit fwinched!”

“That’s not even close to-”

Before I could process the change, the Major was suddenly looming over me, teeth bared, claws outstretched, ready to strike. I could see murder in her eyes, so different from the harshly encouraging mammal I’d come to grudgingly respect in the past week and a half. She would do it, wouldn’t she? It didn’t matter that there were witnesses, I’d still be dead and her revenge would be carried out. A burning fear overtook my system the likes of which I hadn’t felt since Kevin and Raymond had chased me out of Mr. Big’s mansion, promising that icing was too good for me, that they’d rip out my teeth and claws and throw me in a cage with the hungry eagles, and I couldn’t even try to run for the door because I was cuffed to the table. I was trapped with someone who could hurt me, who wanted to hurt me, who was _going_ to hurt me. Being entirely helpless, all I could do was close my eyes and wait for her to drop her first blow.

And wait.

And...wait?

I opened my eyes. The Major was back on the other side of the table, looking at me with real concern. “You okay there, Wilde? You seem a bit shaky.”

“You just – you just _threatened to –_ I thought you were going to _kill_ me,” I snarled, angry and confused and angrier because of the confusion.

“Maybe you’re running a fever,” she mused, reaching out to grab my ear. I shifted away from her paw, which made her lift an eyebrow. “Are you sore anywhere? Or do foxes just have weird episodes like this?”

“Weird _episodes?”_ I narrowed my eyes, allowing my anger to spread beneath my skin, acting as a buffer. “What are you implying?”

“Not implying. _Stating._ One of the trainees in my charge just drifted off and accused me of attacking him. Do you have hallucinations often?”

“You’re calling me crazy? I know what I saw.”

“I’ve been recording this interview,” she said casually. “Would you like to see the tape?”

“Yeah,” I challenged, “I would, actually.”

“As you wish.”

The Major poked her finger at the screen and then turned the laptop around. I could see myself on the screen, squinting as the bag came off my head. She played the tape. It had no sound, but I could see our interaction clearly, up until she burst into laughter, and then…

The Nick Wilde on screen sat there, gazing into space. Major Friedkin stopped and stared, waving her paw in front of the fake Nick’s face. I...hadn’t imagined it. Had I? She really had been about to hurt me. She really had loomed over me, claws like knives ready to pierce my skin. “That’s not how it went. You made a recording or...you changed the tape.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah, you did.”

She sighed. “Poor little Nick Wilde, so determined to be persecuted that he’ll make up an attack. Maybe you really believe it. Maybe you really believe everyone’s out to get you.”

“Or maybe you’re just trying to psych me out because you hate me and want me to fail,” I suggested sweetly. “Maybe you think I’ll drop out if you treat me bad enough.”

“Wouldn’t that be convenient? The fox fails to prove himself, and of _course_ it’s due to speciesism instead of his own laziness and unwillingness to push through the hard times.”

I shifted, uneasy. She was wrong about me – she _was –_ but...maybe she wasn’t. My whole life, I’d taken the easy way out. I had run from my problems. I had become a conman and petty thief, blaming my failures on the very real systemic prejudice plaguing Anima even though I’d seen examples of predators in power. Not _foxes,_ I’d always said to myself whenever I had a little prick of conscience. Predators hated foxes too. And by the time a fox had made it into a government position, I’d been doing my thing for so long I truly believed there was nothing else I _could_ do.

Every time things got hard, I gave up. Not this time, though. This time, I had someone standing behind me, cheering me on. I couldn’t let my mom down now that she knew I was trying to go straight. I couldn’t let Judy down now that she was counting on me to be her partner. I couldn’t go back to Finnick with my tail between my legs. Quitting wasn’t an _option_ anymore. Carefully, I said, “I don’t know how you did it, but I know you changed the tape, and I’m not going to let you chase me out of here.”

“I won’t need to chase you,” she replied with a shrug. “You’re going to fail, Pufftail, and you’re going to do it again and again until you just can’t take it anymore. You’re weak.”

“I’m here to get stronger.”

“I mean emotionally, Wilde. Unlike your fluffy little sponsor, whose trust _you don’t deserve,_ you don’t have what it takes. You’re a quitter. I see hundreds of you every year, and without fail, they all drop out. What makes you think you’re any better than they are? You, a _conman,_ who probably never had any real obstacles in your life?”

“You think speciesism isn’t an _obstacle?_ You think think being chased out of businesses just for being a fox isn’t an _obstacle?”_ I didn’t mention the Scouts. I refused to let her in on the same thing that had made me go soft for Judy. “You think being poor from birth isn’t an _obstacle?”_

“I think Representative Snow met those same obstacles head-on,” she said gleefully, “and somehow, she managed not to try to con everyone she met.”

“This is about Judy, isn’t it?” I asked, deciding just to confront her with my suspicions. I had always been non-confrontational, except with...oh, _wow,_ except with mammals who were smaller than I, and it was gross that my spat with Chief Bogo had been the first of its kind, wasn’t it? “You’re mad at me because you think I hurt her feelings.”

“I don’t trust anyone who assaults a cop-”

“Assault? _Seriously?”_

“But this isn’t about her, no,” she finished, as though I hadn’t spoken. I felt like hitting her, yelling at her, _anything_ to get her to understand that she was out of line. She laughed again. “Always looking for an out, eh, Fox? Any excuse not to focus on yourself. Any excuse not to admit that you’re selfish, callous, entitled, manipulative-”

“I _know,_ okay?” I blurted, louder than I would have if I’d had any control over the words. “I know I’m a piece of shit. I’ve been a piece of shit for a long time, but that’s the _point_ of coming here. To finally do some good. I don’t _want_ to be a piece of shit anymore, so just…”

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears out of my eyes even if they were obvious in my voice. “Just stop. I want to do better. I’m going to. You can’t stop me, no matter how many edited videos you make.”

I tensed up when she came closer, but she only released my wrists from the cuffs and crouched down next to me. Her giant paw came down on my shoulder. “We want officers who know how to take responsibility. For too long we had low standards, and our citizens suffered for it. We can’t afford to allow trainees to blame others for their own mistakes. That’s the first step toward the police brutality we’ve worked so hard to stamp out. I’m glad you’re starting to understand; if I had to throw you out, Hopps would probably storm in here and wreck her career even more than she already has. You’re allowed to cry, you know. Everybody does.”

“Everybody?”

“What, you think I singled you out? You’re not that special, Pufftail, even _if_ you’ve managed to gain sponsorship from the bunny hero of the ZPD.” She snorted. “Don’t ask me how or why, but she likes you enough to attach her name to yours. Don’t screw it up.”

The Major left me there, sitting at the table, blankly looking at my paws. When she spelled it all out like that, I realized just what Judy had done for me. Without her sponsorship, I would need a degree just to be considered for the Academy, even if it were just an Associates degree from a community college. Her career, even if the public didn’t know, was in the toilet because she’d broken several laws and made a deal with a crime boss. If I failed, it wouldn’t just be my failure; it would be hers, too, for backing the wrong mammal.

 _Just like a bunny,_ they would say, _stupid enough to trust a fox._ They probably wouldn’t even bother saying anything about me. I hadn’t done enough proving myself to be a worthwhile target. My being a nonentity, just another lifelong conman, would only make Judy an even bigger target for the ones who’d voted against Leodore Lionheart’s Mammal Inclusion Initiative.

Five minutes later, Wexley found me, hyperventilating and unable to get out of the chair.

* * *

By the time we got back to the student dorms, I wasn’t panicking anymore, but I _was_ furious. The Major had been right in a lot of her assessment of me, but she’d used things she didn’t understand to make points that didn’t apply, and enough of it had been true that if I’d objected, it would have made my situation worse. It was a good sales tactic, but who was she to lecture me on being a con when she did the same thing?

“I can’t believe she’d pull this shit,” I said angrily, pacing in front of my bed.

“For fuck’s sake, calm down,” said Wexley. “Yeah, she made you cry. That’s literally the point of it. Get you all hot and bothered and see if you can work under pressure. So far it doesn’t look like you can.”

“No, I get the point,” I seethed, “but I’m allowed to be mad about it. You have no idea what she _brought up-”_

“I was molested by my stepfather.” I shut my mouth at this, stopping short, unsure of where she was going but knowing damn well anything I said going forward was going to decide for her what kind of mammal I was. “Nobody believed me, so I pretended it wasn’t happening all the way through middle school until my mom divorced him for cheating on her. And the fat bastard gave up the ghost three years ago, so I thought that part of my life was dead and buried. But somehow, the interrogator – it was someone I didn’t know, not the Major – he knew, either through clever guesswork or, I don’t know, mind-based superpowers. Do you think we spent our time in that room talking about the pencil I stole in 4th grade? No, I got to have a big man whispering in my ear about how I shouldn’t have shown the fucker how precocious I was, you know, at _ten_ – that every time after the first time was _my fault_ because I was too afraid to fight him off – that I’m not here because I want to do good, I’m only here because I want to be able to have power over others. That I’ll never make it, because I’m always going to be that pathetic little girl getting in fights with the big boys so I can prove to myself that men are beneath me.”

“Wexley, I…” I felt sick. At least with me, the Major had been more or less accurate, if unnecessarily cruel. “Don’t let this get you down. They’re assholes.”

“They’re not,” she said with a shake of her head. “They care. They care about us and they care about what kind of cops we’re going to be. Fletcher wasn’t wrong to say I’m not here for the right reasons, but even I didn’t know that. I want to specialize in sex crimes because I never want another little kid to have to say nobody believed them or tried to help them. But it’s not so far outside the realm of possibility that I might _accidentally_ hit some perp’s head on the side of my cruiser hard enough to cause brain damage, especially if they’re smaller mammals. It’s not good that I would probably think it was justified, maybe even get a little thrill out of it.”

“So, what, you’re just okay with the fact that they used your worst memory against you like that?”

“I’d be mad if I were just another normal mammal, but I’m not. I mean theoretically, it’s not just police work we have to worry about; Anima’s military is so small that the best of us are going to be drafted if someone decides they won’t allow us to stay neutral. And what if I have to answer to a male wolf? What if I have to _lead_ male wolves? None of us can afford to be individuals on the job. Personally, I feel that if we can’t learn to compartmentalize our traumas, we have no business serving and protecting. You remember how it was twenty years ago, mammals dying in the streets because jumped-up trigger-happy cops _feared for their lives?_ I don’t want to be that cop. What did they bring up that was so bad you’re about to shake out of your fur, anyway?”

Perspective.

I was angry that the Major had questioned my paradigm and mocked my integrity, but did I have any right to be? Wexley and I were both predators. We’d both grown up facing varying levels of speciesism. What was my one instance of violent bullying next to years of abuse from someone Wexley should have been able to trust? For that matter...realistically, how many of my troubles _had_ been my fault? Most of them, probably. Systemic speciesism aside, I had spent half my life being exactly what I thought everyone expected me to be, and then being mad about getting pegged as a criminal, a liar, a cheat…

...not bothering to acknowledge that I _was_ all those things, just like the Major had said. It was wrong of mammals to stereotype me as illiterate _(dumb bunny,_ I’d called her without noticing the irony) and untrustworthy by virtue of being a fox, but being cheesed off that mammals who trusted my word would turn around and curse my name when they found out they’d been cheated? That was asinine. It was asinine to be upset with Judy for doing the _exact same thing_ that I had done when the Major had loomed over me, threatening, unrestrainted.

I had teased her when she’d apologized, and I hadn’t offered an apology in return. I’d made her feel like she was a bad mammal for reacting to what the ZPD training manual called a clear and present threat. Assault _sans_ battery. God. I was such a _dick._

“I bullied and gaslighted someone I care about,” I admitted for the first time. As much as I didn’t want to talk about it, doing so was the first step to changing, and who better than a psychologist who was offering service for free? “I didn’t mean to, but that doesn’t matter when you look at it from her perspective, does it? And I was too stupid and self-absorbed to see that it wasn’t justified just because foxes get the shaft.”

It was a trend in my life, I realized, starting with my mom, who I’d blamed for raising me to be an optimist in a world that would tear me apart. My first boyfriend, the mechanic, who I’d left for brown-nosing the system, being a sellout. My first girlfriend, who’d gotten sick of the lies about where I’d been and what I did for a living. How had I ever thought our breakup was cruelty on her end? How had I not thought about the consequences of insulting Mr. Big by selling Grandmama a worthless rug for a large sum of money? For that matter, how had I expected Judy to trust me after carefully not explaining how small my involvement in _organized crime_ had been?

“And you’re mad at the Major for calling you out on your shit?”

“Maybe, but I think I’m really just mad I didn’t see it before. I thought I was above all that.”

“Or below it,” she offered. “Speciesism… or any prejudice, really...it gets in your head. You can’t tell if you’re the lowest of the low or if you’re better than everyone who ever said anything nasty to you. I know a little something about being stereotyped.”

“Yeah, so did she,” I said bitterly, “and still I was a bad friend.”

“Foxes _do_ get shafted.” She sat down on my bed and patted the spot next to her. I sat, somewhat reluctant, but I was already feeling the energy rush leave my body. “I didn’t see a lot of foxes in the system, but I did see how they were treated. Even other canids would adopt a sheep over a fox.”

“I know. An old acquaintance of mine was a product of the system. His mom and dad were a baseball bat and brass knuckles by the time he was thirteen.”

“I bet he’s not exactly positive about his experience.”

“You could say that. I don’t think he ever felt anything but anger.”

“I think you’re like that, too.”

“I…” She was right, in a way. Underneath everything, I was  _terrified,_ and I was angry about being stuck like that. “It’s not exactly like that, but close enough, I guess.”

She nodded and patted my back. “The past affects the present, but it doesn’t excuse it. My first boyfriend left me because I couldn’t trust him, but I wouldn’t tell him why. He got tired of me hiding in the bathroom after sex and yelling at him when he asked if I needed anything. I would say awful things because I was afraid he’d get too close and see me like I saw myself. Weak. He was a sweetheart; if I’d been honest, we probably could’ve made it work. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t wrong not to trust him, but I was wrong to be dishonest and hurtful and still expect him to cater to me. _I_ ruined that relationship. We all fuck up, Wilde. We can all do better.”

“Yeah,” I said. I thought of the future instead of the past, a future with good things in it. A future with a uniform and a pledge to be trustworthy, to have integrity, and to be brave. To serve and protect. I couldn’t put on that badge until I had earned it. There was more to strength than how many push-ups I could do. “We’ll both make it, Wexley.”

“We will. But call me Artemis. Wexley is a type of cheese.”

“I’ll call you...Artemis…” I snickered. She gave me a warning look, which I ignored. “If you’ll call me Piberius.”

“Fine, fine. We’re friends now, anyway.”

“Wait, whoa, I didn’t agree to friendship-”

“We know each other’s deep, dark secrets. We have each other’s first names. We’re friends,” she said decisively. “And for the record, I know you go by Nick. I’m not calling you Piberius.”

“Curses. Foiled again,” I shot back, just to have the last word.

* * *

**Judy Hopps**

It was unusual to visit the ME in her natural habitat. Usually, she would simply send a report, but this case wasn’t a normal case, according to her. Dr. Barkovich was the top of her field, having attended medical school in the ‘80s and done her residency with the Medical Examiner at the time, even though with her intellect and drive she could have done anything else.

Although Barkovich was traditionally a wolf name, the ME was a dingo. When we walked in, she sniffed the air and twirled quickly. I wondered how she’d managed to notice our scents over the oppressive sterility of the room. More importantly, how was she still standing? Someone had smothered the scent of death with disinfectant and bleach and something else I couldn’t name. Fangmeyer and I were lucky to have inferior senses of smell to Barkovich, but she seemed impassive.

She _was_ used to it, I supposed.

“Good, Officers, you’re here,” said Barkovich.

“You had something to talk to us about?” Fangmeyer asked.

“Yeah. I’ve been looking over my notes on the other autopsies from the properties you included in _your_ notes. At first, I thought there was nothing linking them, but we got lucky; one of our bodies never got picked up by a funeral home. No family, I guess. She was about to go in the oven, but I decided to re-examine her and compare her to the new body. Get this: they _both_ had a rash under their fur. Not enough to raise red flags when the bodies are intermittent, but now that I know to look for a pattern...I’ve noted the rash in all of the bodies. Not _only_ them, but all of them.”

I frowned at the report she’d given us. The most recent body, a mouse, had been examined under magnification. His health wasn’t perfect by any means; his right manual phalanges had been crushed within the past few years, he had plaque buildup in his arteries, and between terms like _disc protrusion L4/L5 – L5/S1_ and _stress fracture C7,_ I gathered that he would have been sedentary by necessity, but had probably worked manual labor in the past. In contrast, the lynx with no family had been the picture of health, according to Dr. Barkovich’s notes. Rather, she had been healthy apart from the rash and a mild case of medial tibial stress syndrome, which I believed was what gymnasts called shin splints. High-impact activities, like running, had probably been part of the lynx’s life.

“Do you know what the rash is?” I asked.

“Not...exactly,” said the ME. “I know it’s not fungal or viral. It isn’t even bacterial. It looks like hives from allergic reactions, but if it’s what killed them, it didn’t leave the usual signs. In fact, I can already tell you that the cause of death for Mr. Trapp was a stroke.”

“So why couldn’t you just put this all in a report?”

“Because I have physical evidence for you,” she said grimly, and pulled on some gloves. She drew out a clear plastic bag with some reluctance and handed it over to Fangmeyer. It was a single stamen. “I pulled that out of her teeth. I believe the flower it belongs to will be of _particular_ interest to you, Officer Hopps.”

“Midnicampum Holicithias?” I asked weakly, hoping I was wrong and knowing that I was not.

“Yeah, but the weird thing is that she didn’t go savage. That leaves a particular stress on the body. I’m pretty sure eating this, or at least having it in her mouth, didn’t contribute to the cause of death. I marked the others as natural deaths, because they all _were._ Our Jane Doe here drowned in her bath. Sad, but not so uncommon for smaller mammals who live in places made for larger mammals. One _probably_ died of cancer; she had it, and the only reason I got the body is that she died alone, and it’s protocol to send them to me to check for foul play before releasing them to whatever funeral home is going to take them. The rash is an alarming link, especially because a stabbing victim from yesterday had it too. I’ve already notified the CDC, but anything that involves Night Howlers is automatically considered part of the investigation into the savage attacks.”

Fangmeyer’s eyes narrowed. “You asked us here for a reason, though. You’ve sent us evidence before.”

“I just don’t like not knowing where it is,” Dr. Barkovich admitted, shuddering. “It’s not more special than any other piece of evidence I’ve sent over, but if _one little flower_ can make a mammal go insane and attack whoever’s in range…”

“We understand,” I assured her. “In your professional opinion, are these deaths connected in a way that means we need to investigate them?”

“You mean do I think it’s murder?”

“Yes.”

“I think that something weird is going on, but my professional conclusion is that each mammal’s cause of death is obvious. If the CDC doesn’t turn up anything, then we might be looking at a really convoluted method of murder...or we might be looking at a string of unfortunate coincidences. I work with the dead, Officer, but once we get beyond physiological markers, I don’t like to speculate. I’ll leave the leaps in logic to you.”

“We’ll take this back to the station,” Fangmeyer promised, giving me a look that probably should have meant something, although I didn’t have a clue what it was supposed to mean. “Thank you for your time. Please let us know if you find anything else you think might be relevant.”

“I will. Have a good afternoon.”

Fangmeyer and I didn’t speak until she had tucked the evidence bag safely into a compartment in the cruiser. As she turned the key in the ignition, she sighed. “Night Howlers. _Shit._ As if we didn’t have enough to deal with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will _not_ be incorporating a continuation of Bellwether's plot. Not every fic needs that. The Night Howlers are important, but not because anyone is in danger of going savage.
> 
> Now: the common law definition of assault is as follows:
> 
> _An intentional act by one person that creates an apprehension in another of an imminent harmful or offensive contact._
> 
> Why have I only read a couple of fics that address the fact that Nick assaulted Judy at the press conference? There are plenty that have Nick learn that Gideon left his mark on her like the Scouts left their mark on Nick, but assault is a crime. It seems like the shipping fandom is fine to turn Judy into a minor villain and harp on what she said at the press conference, but heaven forbid anyone hold Nick accountable for not only assaulting her, but playing the game. You know the one: when a member of a minority group is blatantly racist toward a different minority and feels justified because they _probably_ have it worse in society. The problem is with the system; being an unmitigated asshole isn't going to give you a boost, and nobody should be looking for a boost at the expense of someone else. When we don't hold people accountable, the only thing they learn is that they can get away with bad behavior. My characters aren't going to get away with anything because I want them to be good people.


End file.
